Like Real People Do
by Arriane.Isobel
Summary: He's just a memory, preserved in a box for thousands of years, just waiting to be let out.


Sobbing.

That's the first thing that registers in Arthurs freshly formed thoughts. That should not be his first thought in this world, but it is.

His second thought, however, is that he is not sobbing. Someone else is, faraway. The kind of sobs that rack your whole body and seize your breath.

Then, there's digging. Not the usual sound of a shovel scraping across the dirt, but fingers desperately parting the earth. Insects scurry out the way of the bloody, dirty fingers invading their home.

_Please please please._

Heartfelt words were whispered between sobs. The voice was young, but held an age of heartache and loss. The darkness around him was slowly escaping, letting in small tendrils of dull light.

A soft gasp, then trembling fingers grasped him and pulled him from his cold slumber and into the harsh wakefulness. He sat heavy and burdened in a little iron box where he was banished to all them years ago, by whom, he didn't know. But it chained him down cripplingly and dulled his memories.

Bloodied fingers grasped at his locks, muttering incomprehensible words that Arthur had long forgotten. They belonged to a time that was buried deep inside of him.

The world outside the box was dark. Not as dark as inside the box, but he'd always imagined blinding light. He had a memory, somewhere he couldn't reach properly, of another world. A grey haired man standing between cold stones, light filtering in behind him, making Arthur squint. But the memory ends there. It gets shut down with a harsh swoop.

There was a man, on his knees in front of him. Something told him that he should remember him, but that's locked up, too. He takes a good look at him. His black hair unruly and dirty. In fact, he's dirty. There's mud smeared across his distraught face and up his pale arms. His long fingers are dripping blood and mud onto the dewy grass. His soul screamed _save me,_ but his eyes told him there was nothing left to save. He sobbed into the damp ground, tugging at his disordered hair.

"Oh god" The man ripped out, looking up at Arthur like he was a long lost lover. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant – I didn't mean to pull you out, but I was so lonely, and it's been so long, I'm sorry. I'm sorry"

Arthur frowned. He couldn't find his voice. That was locked somewhere deep, too. Instead, he gently placed a cold hand on his hair. The unruly mess was surprisingly soft between his fingers. It was the first thing he'd touch in this world. It was the first time he'd been solid, not caged in an ancient box, forced to listen to false whispers of his kin.

Arthur sunk down on the damp grass. The man continues sobbing, and Arthur continued stroking his hair until his tears dried up and he stood on weak legs, declaring that they were going home.

This world was strange. Paths were separated from the roads, which were dark and solid. Something told him that they should have been made from the mud he'd been pulled from, but his voice wasn't there.

The man called his home an apartment, what that meant, Arthur wasn't sure. But it was full of strange seats and trinkets and a sad ball of light that hung from the ceiling. The walls were dull and bare, the corners gradually peeling away.

"Are you okay?" The man asked him, gazing over him in concern. Arthur wished he could ask his name, he was painfully familiar, bit the memory was too far away. So, Arthur just nodded. He was tired, and hungry, and his solid form felt unfamiliar.

"Do you want something to eat?" There was a large white box in the corner that he gestured to, Arthur shrugged uncertainly. The white box glowed when he opened it, and Arthur stumbled back in dismay. "It's okay! Arthur it's fine, it's just a fridge, it keeps the food cold"

Arthur shook his head frantically and pulled the man away from the glowing box, grasping for a sword that wasn't there. The man put a tender hand on his shoulder. "It's okay" He whispered sadly. "Go and sit down. The big scary fridge isn't going to eat me" Arthur stared at him wide eyed, and the man gestured at the tatty green sofa. "Seriously, you must be exhausted, Arthur. Go and sit down" It was the first time he'd said his name. The words sent chills down his spine and the feeling of déjà vu struck him. He sat gingerly on the too soft seat, trying desperately hard to recognise something. But it was all new. Even his distant memories evaded him.

He stared at a small black box in front of him, trying to figure out why he's come to this strange place.

The man brought over some bread and cheese, arrange neatly on a delicate plate. Something inside him sparked up. He wished he had the voice to speak up. He stared up at the man, his hands were clean now, grazes and cuts litters his slender, pale hands, and they eerily were familiar.

_What were you doing? Why was you digging?_

"Eat that, then you can go to bed, if you like." Arthur nodded, and picked up the bread and cheese. The man picked up a small contraption, and the black box in front of him sparked to life. Arthur dropped the plate on floor as he stood up in panic. There were people trapped inside, deafening noise blaring from all around. Then, it went blank again.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I never thought, god I'm so stupid" The man tugged him down pressed his hands softly in his cheeks, resting his forehead against Arthurs. Arthur took a shaky breath in and placed his hands on the man's slender neck. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I never should have brought you back"

Arthur shook his head. He wanted to be here. This world was strange and frightening, but the man's blue eyes felt like home.

"Did you want more food?" He whispered. Arthur shook his head. He was exhausted, the last few hours had drained him. "Let's go to bed"

The man's room was depressingly scarce. A sad looking bed sat in the middle of the room, with a small dresser and wardrobe in the corner, and a small table next to the bed. "It's ugly, but it's clean" The man kicked the carpet bashfully. Arthur wound an arm around his skinny waist in comfort. He wished he could remember his name, wished he had the words to comfort him. Instead, he lay in bed with him, soft lips kissing his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, everywhere but his lips.

_Merlin._

The thought jolted him awake. The man's name is Merlin. The thought was accompanied with strange, disjointed images. Blue eyes flashing gold. A great Dragon looming over him, sneering. A beautiful queen, dressed in purple, a golden crown being placed on her dark curls. A dark haired woman, screaming so loud it brought the building down on top of them. Merlin, turning around and smiling. He'd just killed someone, Arthur felt betrayed.

He stared around the unfamiliar room in dismay, before he remembered where he was. Merlin was curled safely in his arms. Dark hair stark against Arthurs pale chest. He drifted off to sleep again, letting the strange dreams of a mystical castle pierce his reality.

Morning was grey and dull. The light filtered through the flimsy curtains, and Arthur winced. Merlin was still asleep next to him. Arthur ran a finger over his cheek, down his jawline, down his neck. Merlin's eyes fluttered open, staring over him with a startled expression, before his features relaxed. He cupped Arthur's cheek and sighed "Are you really here?"

"Yes" His voice was raw and unused, but he'd found it.

Merlin stared wide eyed. "Arthur"

"I'm here" He whispered.

"I can't believe you're here, you're actually here" A lone tear slid down his pale cheek, and Arthur brushed it away. He didn't know where he'd been, but it wasn't here. "Stay here, I'll get breakfast."

Merlin placed a plate on Arthurs lap. Arthur raised an eyebrow and gingerly picked up the bread. "What is it? Some kind of crispy bread?"

Merlin threw his head back and laughed. It was the most beautiful sound Arthur had ever heard. "Crispy bread! No, Arthur. It's toast."

"Toast?"

"Toasted bread?"

"You toasted bread – over a fire?"

Merlin laughed again. "No, no. In a toaster, I'll explain it, I'll explain everything in good time"

Arthur nodded and ate his toast in silence, his mind working overtime. He wasn't sure he liked this new world.

Arthur tried desperately hard to regain his memories, they were right there, in a little box in his mind just screaming to be heard, but Arthur was deaf to their pursuits. He stumbled blindly around the small snippets that he already had.

"It will come back" Merlin said soothingly, rubbing circles on his back.

"But _when? _I have no idea who I am, or who you are, or where I came from. I only have these feelings"

"What do you feel?"

"Now? I feel confused and frustrated, but every now and then, I feel like – I don't know, it's almost like a memory, or the feeling of a memory. I feel like I'm on top of the world, like I could take on anything. Other times, I feel so betrayed that my heart weeps. But then I look at you and I feel like I'm coming home"

"You are home" Merlin soothed, kissing his cheek tenderly.

"I know" Arthur agreed, but he couldn't help but feeling home was an age ago.

Merlin rarely smiled. It felt odd and off. Like he shouldn't be sad, he should be happy and chirpy. The strange thing was, Arthur had never seen him happy and chirpy, it was just a feeling. He was slowly introducing Arthur to what he called technology. But he hated the moving box, and the talking box that woke him up in the morning. There was a contraption in the kitchen that boiled water in a minute, and another one that toasted bread. Even with all his encouragement, Merlin still seemed reluctant for him to learn too much.

_What were you looking for? What did you bury?_

He never let him outside, either. He said he wasn't ready, that outside was too much too soon.

But he'd been cooped up in this tiny space for weeks, and he was going out his mind. Sometimes he felt like he was suffocating. His chest tightened and his breath felt heavy. Merlin would hold him tightly and rock them slowly back and forth until it was over.

Arthur would sleep for days, then. He slipped into a deep slumber and dream of bugs and dirt and fingers scraping across the earth, a voice in his mind screaming _'Why are you digging?!'_

Sometimes, Merlin would go out, for hours at a time. Arthur would sit in darkness, too frightened to touch anything. When Merlin came back, he'd lie on the sofa with Arthur and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

Memories came in flashbacks. He was standing in front of a stone, a sword – his sword stuck deep. It wouldn't come out, there was no way he could pull it out. Then, Merlin was there, telling him that he could do it, that he was the true king of Camelot. The sword slid out with ease then.

"Merlin" Arthur shook him awake

"What, what's wrong?" Merlin looked up in alarm, surveying the room for danger.

"Nothing – I just – I was a king, wasn't I?"

Merlin nodded gravely. "You were. But that was a long time ago"

Arthur sighed. "How long ago?"

"I lost count" Merlin confessed grimly. "Years weren't measured then, no one could be certain what year it was"

"There was a dragon – he was destroying the city"

"Kilgaharrah" Merlin nodded. "Your father chained him under the castle when he outlawed magic. I set him free, and he tried to burn down the castle"

Arthur's eyes were blown wide. "I slayed him, I think, but then, he was by Avalon?"

"I told you that you'd slayed him, but I lied. I banished him. He couldn't go back"

"You banished a dragon?"

Merlin smirked "I was a dragon lord, the last of my kind"

"A dragon lord and a King, sounds…amusing"

Merlin smiled wretchedly. "If only it was that simple"

Darkness overcame him. He gripped his hair and screamed out. Sobs choking him. He was reminded of the night Merlin found him, the way he'd sobbed then.

"What happened?" Merlin demanded, banding into the room and sitting next to him on the bed.

"I remember, I remember everything"

Merlin stiffened, arm going rigid around Arthurs shoulders. "You…remember"

"You betrayed me. You lied to me all those years."

"What I did was for you, I did it all for you, Arthur"

"You could have told me"

"You'd have had me executed, or banished and I wouldn't have been able to take care of you"

"I didn't need you to take care of me"

"I saved you more than you ever knew" Merlin's voice wasn't light and teasing like it would have been once, it was dark and raw. Arthur felt weak, like he did the night he died.

There was silence then, both lost in their own thoughts. Everything was slowly clicking into place. All the times Merlin was creeping around him, why he never pushed for him to get his memories back.

"Why were you digging?"

"What?" Merlin stuttered, looking panicked.

"That night, when you…found me, what did you bury? How did you find me?"

Merlin's eyes darkened. "I knew you were there"

"How?"

"I put you there. When you died, I burned your body and took your soul. I kept it in a little box carved from the strongest iron in the five kingdoms. I enchanted it myself, and I buried it where no one would ever find it. You were never meant be found, not even by me. Especially not by me."

Arthur shook his head. He couldn't believe this.

"You're not really here" His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're just a memory. You're a withering form that's fading away by the minute. I hoped to god that you'd never regain your memory, that you could stay here forever, but you're not meant for this world anymore"

"Merlin stop!" Arthur cried, clutching his head in his hands.

"I never let your soul move on, I kept it here, with me. All those years, you've been just a memory, but your memory is your doom. You can move on now, I won't keep you anchored to this world" He kissed his hair, his cheek, his nose. "I love you" He whispered desperately "I'm sorry, I never should have kept you here"

"Oh god Merlin" He sobbed, letting himself fall back onto the bed, Merlin in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"

"I love you"

They fell asleep in each other's arms, Merlin whispering sweet nothings in his ear until, slowly, the darkness overcame him once and for all.


End file.
